


Warmth

by Gisel401



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character Study, Crowley Character Study (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gisel401/pseuds/Gisel401
Summary: What Crowley had loved most about Hell, was that it ran just below hot.Heaven could never.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 15





	Warmth

What Crowley had loved most about Hell, was that it ran just below hot. 

Crowley’s been cold-blooded long before he was damned, long before he adopted a snake counterpart upon his descent. His body has always run colder than the other angels, and with Heaven’s spacious environment so high above the ground, Heaven garnered lots of drafts. The other angels never really seem to be bothered by the chilliness, and thinking back on it now, Crowley lamented how fitting it was for how stoic and cold they could be. 

Other angels would bustle around paying no mind to the cool breezes, but not Crowley. Then known as Michael, Crowley would curl his enormous wingspan (a welcomed feature given to archangels by the Almighty) around his body and swamp himself with his feathers, insulating what warmth he could gather close to his frame. Summer usually brought warmer winds, but once Autumn started creeping around the corner, Winter close at its heels, Crowley’s wings would become more of an oversized feather-coat. It was rare to see Crowley using his wings during the Fall or Winter, so much so that it had become a general knowledge in Heaven to avoid his path during those dark months, his temper and grouch sharper than anyone would want to deal with; any assignments he’d be saddled with would almost entirely be made up of ground work, having little to no tasks in Heaven. That had been Gabriel’s doing to keep Crowley in an environment that’d provide him with sources of warmth he could visit often, and, looking back, most likely to separate him from Heaven, build distance between him and the Almighty. As considerate Gabriel’s actions had seemed at the time, Crowley wasn’t ignorant of the gossip that had circulated around Heaven of Gabriel’s profound lack of fondness for him, that he had it out for Crowley and his position. 

Now, shielded from the encroaching Winter winds in Aziraphale’s book shop, situated among book shelves that seem to hug the air around him as the end tails of steam from the mug of tea in his hands tickled the tip of his nose, Crowley reflected grudgingly that he was rather contented with how things turned out. Earth and Hell may not be able to return to him the wings that he lost, the Almighty’s favor, or his ability to dabble with space and its constellations (Crowley’s still rather wistful of this), but it did offer him the things he had yearned for thousands of years as an angel. 

Earth and Hell had given him warmth as a peace offering, and as important as warmth was to Crowley, it was never lasting; no, the offer of warmth had led to his gravitation towards them, but it was the freedom to _be_ without guilt that had made him stay. Granted, the only redeeming feature of Hell was its heat, but Earth, for all the horrible events that its gone through, acquainted him with understanding, with humans and its sparks of humanity. Most importantly… 

Crowley brought the mug of tea to his lips, humming around the rim when he felt a hand reach from behind him to caress his hair locks in a lingering sweep. Crowley glanced up to stare fondly at Aziraphale, whose soft smile shone back at him as he scratched gently at Crowley’s scalp. A small sigh slipped out of Crowley’s mouth when Aziraphale gave a small tug at the roots of his hair. 

…Earth had given him permission to love. 

And that warmth was something he never could’ve generated alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> In which Crowley can't stand the cold, or more precisely, Heaven, who's cold in more ways than one. Crowley's demonic persona did more than just anchor him to Hell, it also made him much more human, which I always loved. I will definitely be exploring the humanity in him much more in the future ;)


End file.
